


Exolvuntur

by WonderWafles



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Did I choose the Latin word for "cycle" because it has the word "exo" in it?, Gen, Post-Towerfall, The Author's Poor Knowledge on How Radios Work, maybe so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 06:54:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14995256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderWafles/pseuds/WonderWafles
Summary: In the wake of the Red Legion's attack on the City, Aryn searches for survivors, and finds more - and less - than she could have hoped for.





	Exolvuntur

**Author's Note:**

> The first of my rather late exploration of what my characters were up to during the Red War. Ties into, but is not necessarily a part of, the Dramis of House Rain series.

She heard her Ghost’s shouted warning moments before the ground exploded beneath her.

With an admirable amount of poise and grace for an unpowered Titan (she thought), Aryn leapt out of the way just before the heat washed over her and her whole body was struck with something that felt like a sledgehammer. Even so, she landed hard on the broken street, and barely caught herself with her elbow. The air was driven from her lungs as dirt clouded her visor. Something snapped in her arm, and pain flooded through her body.

“Move!” Mara hissed in her ear. Aryn labored to her feet just in time to see a Red Legion soldier hefting a Cabal gun, and aiming it directly at her.

She swore under her breath.

The ground exploded again, but Aryn had taken her Ghost’s advice, and was already running. The Legionnaire looked confused, just for a moment, but it was enough.

She leapt on top of the massive solider, and brought her fist down on his head. The blow didn’t quite break through, but the Legionnaire staggered under the force. She didn’t let him recover, instead curling her fingers (now covered in pressure gel) and brought her fist down again.

The Legionnaire wasn’t quite that slow on the uptake, however. Aryn felt pain blind her as something of his slammed into her side, and ribs cracked.

The strength in her good arm nearly gave out. She held fast as the world swam in front of her eyes. Then, putting all of the strength she had left, she hit him again.

This time, he went down.

“Easy,” Mara commanded, as Aryn slid off of the Legionnaire’s corpse. “Give me a second.”

The pain eased, and the damage to her armor mended itself. Aryn’s breath became less labored as quiet descended upon the street.

She looked up, and gestured.

From behind a building, the refugees came. Disturbingly few, to Aryn’s eyes, but it was better than nothing. Nine children, five adults. Most were wearing the clothes they wore when the Cabal first attacked, now torn and ragged, and most were bleeding.

She couldn’t help but wince to herself as they made their way into the street. (She hoped her helmet would obscure it.) Though they were covered with dust and grime, many of them were wearing bright civilian clothes, easily noticeable against the gray desolation of the City. The fact that there were so many of them didn’t help either.

It was a miracle they hadn’t been spotted already – that, or it was very clever of her to take them through the outer districts of the City, even if it meant it would take them longer to get to the gate. Even if her Ghost had advised against it.

She allowed herself a smile.

“What are you smiling about?” Mara asked softly as she finished doing what she could do. There wasn’t enough good material around to fully repair her armor, and if there had been, there wouldn’t be time.

“Nothing,” Aryn said. She stood up and stretched.

“Well, fine,” Mara huffed, and Aryn fought the urge to laugh too loudly. “Don’t tell me.”

“If you insist,” Aryn said. “What are you picking up on the City broadcasts?”

“The main ones are shut down,” she said. “I can access them, it’s just dead static. The Vanguard channel is closed, which is something. One of them – probably Zavala, if I had to guess – must have changed my permissions or narrowed the frequency or something. I suppose to keep the Cabal from listening, but it means I can’t listen either.”

Aryn wasn’t surprised, but it was unwelcome news. No contact with the Vanguard meant it would be difficult to organize an evacuation.

Then came the hard question. She swallowed. “And-?” she asked. She hoped she wouldn’t have to finish.

Mara was quiet for a few moments. “I haven’t heard from Solla since Morna was sent aboard the command ship,” she murmured. “Nothing from – from Needle, or Knot-7, either.”

She had been expecting that, too. She nodded, and ignored the feeling from her stomach that it was falling, steadily and unceasingly, with no bottom in sight.

A man, older, wearing scholar’s robes with a faint patch that denoted his involvement with New Monarchy, approached her. He smiled wearily at her – a faint thing, but there all the same. 

A teacher, Aryn knew. He volunteered at an orphanage in the City. Most of the children with them were there because of him. 

“All are accounted for,” he told her, his normally soft voice even quieter in the streets of the City. She had asked him to keep an eye on their numbers for her, so she could devote more time to watching their enemies. “Everyone can walk under their own power, for now. Most are uninjured – or, at least,” he said, a tight sort of amusement coloring his tone, “no new injuries since the last time.”

“Thank you, Jerome,” she told him sincerely. “We’ll need to get moving again soon. Do you think you can gather everyone yourself? I want to go ahead and see if the way is clear to the south gate.”

He looked down the street, and she thought she could see nervousness creasing his face. She understood. The longer they stayed in the open, the greater the opportunity for a Cabal scouting party to find them.

He turned back towards her. “Actually,” he said, a note of sadness in his voice Aryn hadn’t been expecting. “I’d like to talk about something. Er, in private.”

Aryn was confused. She frowned at him. “No offense, dude, but this isn’t really the time or the place to be having private conversations.”

“I know, I know,” he assured. “I just… really think you’d like to discuss this… away from the others.”

Aryn sighed. As she scanned the street again, besides the ships in the sky, there was no sign of any imminent Cabal attack. Still, she knew time was of the essence.

“Is it important?” she asked him.

“Very,” Jerome said. The sadness again in his voice.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get into cover first.”

…

She found a building that looked like it used to be an old rec center, before it had been sealed up and abandoned after Twilight Gap. She ushered the group inside.

“Okay, everyone,” she said. “We’re only here for a short time. Let’s see if we can’t find any supplies left behind for the Forces of the City lying around. We’ll be on our way soon.”

The survivors started to mill about, talking to each other lowly. A child laughed, talking to his sister, and Aryn’s spirits lifted at the sound. 

“Alright,” she told Jerome. “Let’s talk.”

A dark, dusty room in the back of the center that Aryn thought might have been a very small gymnasium was as private as they were going to get. Instinctively, she reached out, tried to the use her Light to make something to see by.

It hit her as hard as ever when she found it gone, but she shook it off and refused to think about it any longer. Instead, Mara appeared and shone a light upon them both.

Jerome was fiddling with something at his waist, and as she turned to face him he pulled it away and showed it to her.

An old, hand-held radio. She examined it curiously.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I haven’t been using it to send out any signal. Just listening. And I – I picked up something.”

She turned towards Mara, who would’ve shrugged if she had shoulders. _I didn’t notice anything._

“It’s a local signal,” he said. “Not being broadcast on any City frequency. It’s-”

He broke off, but Aryn understood. “Survivors,” she breathed.

Jerome turned the radio on. A voice crackled into life, female, Exo. It was rough, nearly out of range, but Aryn could understand it well enough.

_“-that’s off the old 43rd Street, next to a lake in South City. We’re thirty-four people in total, currently holed up in what used to be the ground floor of the, uh, the Halcyon Hotel. If you - you can hear this, we’re in desperate need of a Guardian. Please. If there are any left. Go – go with the Light.”_

Pause. The Exo breathed on the other end, short and quick, and Aryn realized she had been repeating the message herself, all this time, waiting for someone to hear.

_“If you can hear this, we’re a group of survivors-”_

Jerome turned the radio off. “You get the idea,” he said. He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes.

Aryn ran her hand through her hair. “Thirty-four survivors,” she whispered. “Oh, by the Traveler.”

She had trouble enough getting her small group through the streets unseen. Fifty people would be almost impossible.

Almost.

“Listen,” Jerome said shakily. “I wanted to talk to you about this in private because… well, because I wanted to give you the chance to…”

Aryn stared at him. He sighed, ran his hands through his hair. 

“I know that’s a lot of people,” he said. “If that’s not something you think you can take on without jeopardizing all of us – well, what I’m trying to say, Aryn, is that no one would judge you if you turned the other way.”

“Not even you?” Aryn asked softly.

Jerome shook his head. “No one expects you to save everyone, Titan,” he said gently. The words _especially not now_ went unsaid, but Aryn heard them, anyway. “I will keep your secret, if you ask me to.”

And Aryn realized she could. She could leave them behind, if she wanted. Close her eyes and hope another Guardian would help. Her only responsibility now was to get her small group of refugees out of the City, and she couldn’t put that chance – _their_ chance – in danger by overextending herself. 

Nine children, six adults. Fifteen people in total. No one could ask more of her.

She desperately wished Morna was here.

“Aryn…” Mara’s voice came. She looked up at her Ghost, shielding her eyes from the light.

“Yeah?” she asked.

Her Ghost hesitated. “What do you want to do?” she asked. 

_It’s your choice,_ she was saying.

The Hunters had a saying for these situations, she knew. Something about lions and foxes. 

But she was a Titan. And Morna Lum wasn’t here.

She looked at Jerome. “I’m going after them,” she announced.

He just smiled at her, that weary look in his eyes again – but this time, admiration, too.

“You don’t look surprised,” she said.

“Not,” he said, “particularly.”

…

She explained the situation to the refugees. “You’ll have to stay here for a bit,” she told them. “Not long. I’ll be back soon.”

“Will you be okay?” a child cried out. One of the adults moved to shush her. Aryn just smiled.

“I promise,” she said.

She turned towards the rest of the group. “Alright,” she said. “Who here has any kind of military experience? City Watch, or Forces of the City?”

Nobody showed themselves immediately. Aryn frowned.

Then, two people raised their hands. A young Awoken man, and a middle-aged woman, who was holding the hand of a young boy.

They stepped forward when Aryn gestured. The woman left the boy behind, and he watched her with worry in his eyes.

She unslung her secondary from her back and eyed them both. She only had one gun to spare. Who to give it to?

The man was dressed in civilian clothes, but he was young enough that his service wouldn’t have been that long ago. The training, the expertise with firearms that the Forces of the City were known for, would all be fresh on his mind.

But he was alone. He had come with no one, had no one in particular to protect. Had nothing to lose. He would be more liable to take stupid risks.

She pressed the weapon into the arms of the woman. Her eyes widened, but narrowed again into a harsh kind of focus. “I won’t let you down,” she said.

“I know,” Aryn replied. She raised her voice so that the rest of the group could hear. “If the Cabal show up,” she said, “your first job is to get everyone to safety. Yes, including yourself. Don’t wait for me. Make your way to the south gate.”

The refugees all stared at her. She turned away, and stared out at the darkening street. Even if they left now, they would be traveling in the fullness of night.

“Give me-” Ten minutes there, fifteen minutes back with all of the survivors. “-Forty minutes. If I’m not back before then, leave without me.”

She could ask them to wait longer. But the Cabal patrols were becoming more common, and it wouldn’t be long before the City was theirs, wholly. They were running out of time.

“We can’t leave you,” the woman she’d given the gun to argued. 

“Would you risk his life?” she asked, angling her head towards the young boy.

The woman’s mouth flattened into a line. Unhappy, she shook her head.

Aryn clapped her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me,” she said lowly. She winked. “Guardians don’t die.”

Everyone knew by now that there was no Light left. But the woman just smiled weakly back at her, and didn’t argue.

“Aim for the head and they go down,” Aryn said. “Just like everything else.”

The woman nodded.

As she faced the street, and prepared to leave, one more hand alighted on her shoulder.

Jerome handed her the radio. “In case you want to keep in touch with them when you get closer,” he said.

“Thank you, Jerome,” she said again. The old man grinned at her, and she grinned back.

…

Progress through the streets of the Last City was much faster without refugees to guard.

The Halcyon Hotel wasn’t far, but trying to avoid the Cabal made it feel longer. Rain had begun to drizzle while they were in the rec center. Aryn hoped the gloom would make it easier to hide from the invaders, but she didn’t count on it.

All the while, she ran the math in her head. Thirty-four people. It could work, if she sent them in groups. 

How many places in the City were big enough to disguise them all? 

She couldn’t think about that right now.

“Mara?” she whispered. “How close are we?”

“The Hotel is just down that street, around the corner, and at the end of the marketplace,” Mara said. “About one hundred and fifty meters roughly west, if you were wondering.”

“Odd place for a hotel,” Aryn mused. “The building plans in the City really are cramped.”

“Are we really talking about this now?”

“Sorry.”

Aryn peered down the street, and looked in either direction. Five minutes since she left the rec center. She allowed herself to relax, just a little bit. She was ahead of schedule, and there was no sign of any Cabal anywhere.

She pulled out the radio, and turned it on. The Exo’s soft voice began again.

“This is Aryn, Titan of the City,” she said into it, quietly. “Who am I speaking to?”

The voice stopped. There was silence for a long moment, and Aryn mentally urged her to keep talking.

“I am Hatena-3,” she finally replied. Her voice rose in excitement. “Did you get our message? Are you coming to help us?”

“I am,” she confirmed. She considered telling them the Light was gone and she had no powers, but ultimately decided that was something she could tell them later. Right now, the relief in Hatena’s voice was enough to make Aryn feel a little better, too.

“Please don’t broadcast anymore, Hatena,” Aryn said. “I don’t know if the Cabal can pick up on our transmissions, but I’d rather not take the chance. I know where you are, and I’m close. Expect me in five.”

“Thank you,” Hatena said, her voice thick. Aryn pretended not to notice. “We’ll be here. Out.”

Aryn put her radio back. “Almost home,” she said to Mara.

She stepped out into the street – and froze.

Cabal were making their way down the street she had turned left from. Beside the hulking soldiers were some kind of animals, sniffing at the air and leading their masters forward. She ducked back into the building she had been taking shelter in.

The way they were going, they would miss her if she stayed out of sight. She couldn’t account for the beasts, but if they hadn’t smelled her yet – covered in grime and dirt as she was – they probably wouldn’t now.

Then, she froze again.

They were heading right for the group of survivors she had left behind.

She groaned, unslung her gun, darted back into the street, and fired it at the trailing Cabal, who was soon afterward relieved of his head.

The Cabal started to yell. Aryn turned on her heel and began to sprint.

She knew there was a market just outside of the hotel. If she could get them in it, she could use the open space. Without looking behind her, she dashed for the turn, expecting at any moment to feel the heat of a slug shot fly past her. Hopefully, past her.

She ducked into the market square just as the Cabal patrol entered. She swore, and realized they must have found another entrance. She unslung her Hand Cannon. Four Legionnaires (that were left), two Phalanxes, and a Centurion.

Two of the Legionnaires were down before they knew what was happening, and the third fell just in time for the Phalanx to slam its shield down and cover the remaining troops.

The Centurion catapulted itself into the sky and fixed its gun on Aryn. She dove under cover of a partially destroyed building as shots began to rain down.

Eventually, the shots stopped. Aryn thought she could hear the beast beginning to descend. She jumped up, lowered her gun at it, and –

She was tackled from the side. Claws, sharp and unyielding, savaged her armor and scored deep against her arms and chest. Feral eyes glared down at her as teeth gnashed, aiming for her throat.

She couldn’t help a howl of pain as she grabbed the thing by its neck and held it away from her.

“What the hell are you?” she hissed. The animal responded by making another swipe at her face, and she wrung its neck.

Panting, she forced herself onto her knees. She threw the animal’s body to the side. Mara’s voice echoed in her head. “Aryn!” she cried. “Let me-”

“No!” Aryn said through clenched teeth. “Don’t come out. It’s not safe yet.” Her hand clutched her side and stomach, and she felt blood begin to seep through her fingers.

She could hear the baying of hounds, except they didn’t sound like any dog she knew. She shuddered, with pain or with fear, she couldn’t tell.

The Centurion roared in the distance. She readied her Hand Cannon once again, and faced the horde.

The beasts were coming at her in a pack of at least seven, in Aryn’s hurried estimation. One, two, three, four shots – four went down, but three were almost on top of her –

Mara appeared in a flash. She shone her light on its highest setting into the things’ eyes. They howled and broke off course. One began to savage another instead of its true target, which was presumably Aryn’s face.

She didn’t have time to reload. She lunged out with her bare hands, despite the agony creeping through her whole body, and made short work of the remainder. 

She collapsed on the ground and heaved great breaths, finally allowing herself to feel the pain truly. Mara turned her attention on Aryn, and relief washed over her as her wounds mended.

“Thanks, dude,” she gasped as she struggled to her feet.

“No problem, bro,” she replied dryly. “Don’t get comfortable. We’ve got bigger problems.”

As Aryn looked back over her cover, Mara disappeared. She reloaded her Hand Cannon, more calmly now – or so it appeared. Her heart pounded against her chest.

“Wait a second,” Aryn murmured. “Where did they-”

Mara gasped. Aryn whipped her head around to look down the square, all the way to the end where the Halcyon Hotel squatted, and where the Cabal was making their way.

They must have assumed the beasts had killed her, Aryn thought, the blood roaring in her ears. They were confident, she’d give them that. But that thought was drowned in the realization that if they were going to the Hotel, there was a good chance they knew the survivors were there. And that she had led them there.

There was no time for that. Aryn jumped out of cover and started firing at the Centurion.

His energy shield sparked and failed. The heat washed over her, even from this distance, and shortly afterward the Centurion fell.

A slug rifle from the one remaining Legionnaire caught her in the chest. She flew backward, letting out a cry of pain.

She caught herself before she fell, and aimed at her assailant. She found herself face to face with the Phalanx, as it slammed its shield down again. This time, it aimed over the shield, directly for her.

Aryn calculated her chances. _Not great_ , she surmised. The Phalanx would gun her down if she ran for the shelter, but she would be equally hamburgered if she stayed where she was.

All of a sudden, everything seemed a lot slower. Her mind raced, but it wasn’t coming up with anything.

She drew in a breath, though it hurt. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Shut up,” Mara said.

“No, really, Mara,” Aryn said. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say-”

“I mean it, Aryn,” Mara replied. “Shut up.”

“I’m trying to have a meaningful moment here!” Aryn said, taken aback by the rudeness being shown to her.

“There’s something happening.”

Aryn shut up. And she noticed the Phalanx visibly pause, and then slowly, ever so slowly, begin to turn.

Towards the Hotel, where a figure was walking out. And then, the Phalanx’s head exploded.

Aryn seized her chance. She leapt on top of the Legionnaire and killed it with a shot from her Hand Cannon before it could fire on the figure.

It fell to the ground. Aryn stood up straight, and looked at the person.

It was an Exo, male. He had a horn like Cayde’s and his torn up, beaten cloak bore a very familiar pattern. Two stripes, three colors, one for each member of the fireteam, that dumb sentimental cloak that Aryn had loved far more than she would admit to him.

Most of all, she knew that bearing, that way he carried himself like he was uncomfortable with anyone’s eyes falling on him, as though he preferred at all times to hide himself away and do his job, whatever that entailed, in peace.

He had walked right up out of the Hotel. So. Hatena had a Guardian, after all.

Her mouth dropped. He looked up at her, lighted eyes blinking once.

He may have said something then, but Aryn cut him off.

“Knot!” she cried. “You’re alive!”

Without really realizing she had moved, Aryn found herself in front of the Hunter. She swept him up in the strongest hug she could offer, before remembering that Guardians couldn’t die anymore and relaxing it.

“I knew it,” she murmured. “The Cabal scanned for brain activity but you just didn’t register, eh?”

“Eheh,” he said, awkwardly returning the hug. “Uh, are you… complimenting me?”

There was a presence in her mind. “Aryn…” Mara said.

She released Knot. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” she said, firmly, but unable to keep the happiness out of her voice.

“Something isn’t right,” Mara insisted.

But Aryn was distracted when, out from behind Knot, another figure emerged. The Exo looked damaged in places – a whole plate on her face was missing, and she was covered in scuffs and scratches, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed with simple repairs.

“You must be Hatena,” she said.

“I am that,” she said, and smiled at her. “Come in, Guardian. We are very happy to see you.”

…

One look at the huddled refugees told Aryn why they didn’t try to move on their own. 

For every able-bodied person in the lobby, there were two who looked too injured to move quickly, especially if they were unfamiliar with this part of the City (and if they were born after Twilight Gap, they probably were). Many of them were bandaged with a familiar, tri-colored fabric.

“We need to move soon,” Aryn told Hatena. “I have other refugees waiting on me for help to get them out of the City.”

“The south gate?” Hatena asked. Her voice was fearful. “We thought it was too far to get to, with the Cabal all over the place.”

“Don’t worry,” Aryn assured her. “We’ll get you there safely.” She looked over Hatena’s shoulder at the mass of people, most of whom had begun to stare at her. “Let’s start getting everyone together, okay?”

Hatena nodded, and turned to start issuing orders. It was clear that most people had already started to think of her as the leader.

Knot was staring at Mara, who had emerged to hover over Aryn’s shoulder. He frowned, and reached into his pocket.

He held something out to them. Aryn leaned to get a closer look.

Mara gasped. “Needle!”

She raced over to the inert Ghost and started to scan. Aryn looked at Knot. “Is she dead?” she asked quietly.

Knot shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “Listen. This – this is the same as… as you, right?” he directed the question towards Mara.

“A Ghost?” Aryn answered for her. “Uh, yeah man, that’s a Ghost. That’s… your Ghost.”

Then, her stomach started to descend again.

“She’s alive,” Mara breathed. “She’s still shut down after the Light failed, but she’ll probably wake up, like me.”

“That’s good,” Aryn said absently. She took a step closer to Knot.

“Knot,” she said lowly. “You know who that is, right?” She gestured towards the Ghost in his hand.

He stared at her, eyes wide and guileless. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“She’s your Ghost,” Mara, who had perhaps caught on more quickly than Aryn, said gently. “You’re a Guardian.”

Knot stepped back, eyes widening in shock.

“Knot,” Aryn said again. “What’s your name?”

“I am Knot-8,” he said. He laughed, a little nervously. “I, uh, I don’t know how I know that, but I do. I’ve known that ever since I woke up in the rubble. Not much else, though.”

He peered at her. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “But… well, have we met? I feel like I know you.”


End file.
